


Birthday Treats

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: Tom Petty (Musician)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Dogs, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 15:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15415890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt: 'I wanted to request this a couple of weeks ago on my birthday (big 21





	Birthday Treats

You stumble in, beaming from ear to ear, and Tom is right behind you, grinning widely; he grabs you around the waist and spins you around, kissing your neck gently as he shuts the door behind him.

“Well, baby, did you have a good time?” he asks, and you nod.

“Oh, Tom. Thank you, so much.” He kisses you, arm around your waist, and you stroke your fingers through those curtains of blonde hair; you close your eyes, losing yourself in the liquor taste of his tongue, and then he dips you and you yelp, clinging onto him. “Tom!”

He beams, lazy blue eyes fixed on you, and then stands you back up.

“Come on, babe, we’re gonna go sit in the living room and then… I have one last surprise for you.” Your eyes open wide, and he grins at you. “I love you, babe. I ever mention that?”

“A few times. Oh, Tom, what did you get me?” you say, and he sits you down.

“Wait here.” You sit down, and he vanishes towards the kitchen; after a moment, he comes back with a glass of wine, and a box of chocolates. You take the glass, and sigh as he leans down to kiss you.

“Thank you, Tom…”

“That’s not the surprise. Just… y’know. Eat ‘em. But put ‘em away when you hear me comin’ downstairs, okay?” You open the package and grab the little card – he’s done good, these are nice – and he vanishes. He’s gone about five minutes, in which time you absolutely decimate the chocolates and have a good crack at the wine, and by the time you hear his feet, you panic and end up shoving the chocolates into the box and under a pillow.

“Close your eyes,” you hear from outside, as well as a weird clicking sound as if he’s dropping thousands of tacks on the hard flooring. You obediently do so, and the sound stops – there’s a weird sound like a dog breathing or something, and then Tom clears his throat. “Open your eyes.”

You do so, and discover that the ‘dog breathing’ sound was in fact - a dog, breathing. In front of you, on a leash, is the biggest, most gorgeous puppy you’ve ever seen. He’s a bit of a mutt, but you can see some husky in there, and you gasp in delight.

“Well, you kept talking about us getting a puppy…” he says, and you’re already on the floor, scruffing the dog’s head as it licks you in delight. “She’s called Daisy, but the farm said we can call her what we like, and she is a puppy, I swear. She’s just… damn big.”

“I love her,” you whisper, and nuzzle your head against the dog – you aren’t sure if it’s the dog or the situation, but you feel like you’re about to cry, and he kneels down to sit with you.

“Did I do good?” he asks, and you kiss him.

“You did the best. This is… the best thing you ever got me,” you whisper, and he smiles – you see relief in his eyes, and you wonder why he was so tense about this, until you realise that today, this was the only thing his celebrity didn’t buy. The drinks – the activities – but this was a present from a man to his beloved, and you kiss him hard. “You’re amazing.”

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, and you pat the dog’s head again. “Now… what do we call her?”


End file.
